


Trying to Relax

by becominghistoric



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Oral Sex, Porn, Smut, grantaire is a yoga instructor and I have lost control of my life, mostly fluff with an added blowjob..., with very limited plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-20
Updated: 2013-05-20
Packaged: 2017-12-12 11:35:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/811138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/becominghistoric/pseuds/becominghistoric
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Combeferre decides that Enjolras needs to learn how to relax, so suggests that he see his yoga instructor. Grantaire is that yoga instructor.</p><p> </p><p>(Mini backstory: Grantaire gets clean and enjoys the few yoga classes he has at rehab, so he decides 'fuck it, might as well spend my life helping other people to relax and be happy'. So he does. (See, it sort of makes sense, I promise!))</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trying to Relax

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first attempt at writing smut, so be forgiving!

Grantaire had recently decided to branch out from large classes and add one-one-one or small group yoga sessions to his schedule. When he’d announced this to his Tuesday evening class, Combeferre had waited patiently for everyone to leave, and then sidled up to him, nervously pushing his glasses higher onto his nose.  Grantaire grinned at him “’Ferre, what’s up? You look considerably un-relaxed for someone who’s just finished ninety minutes of meditation, should I being reconsidering my career choice?”

“Oh no, no!” Combeferre pushed his glasses up again, but looked a lot less worried. Grantaire had a knack for making other people feel at ease “It’s just, I have a couple of friends who I’ve been trying to persuade to start meditating for ages. I think a small class could be perfect, particularly for one of them. He’s rather... work-focused. He could really do with learning to let go.” He paused, and Grantaire nodded encouragingly. Difficult customers weren’t a problem; some of his most dedicated pupils had been stubbornly reluctant when they started. Combeferre continued “I mean, if he comes with Joly it shouldn’t be a problem. I just thought it’s only fair that I warn you.”

“That’s fine, just get them to email or text me and we can sort out an appointment.” Grantaire opened his diary “Next week’s not too busy, if they want to start soon. What’s the other one’s name, the difficult one?”

“Enjolras. He’s not difficult as such, just...” he frowned, searching for the right word, then sighed “yeah, okay, he’s going to be difficult.”

“It’ll be fine, honestly. See you next week, Combeferre.”

“Okay, thanks. Bye, R!”

Grantaire smiled to himself as he began to roll away the yoga mats. He was looking forward to Project Enjolras already.

***

As Enjolras opened the door of the building Combeferre had described to him, he couldn’t quite believe what he was doing. He hoped it would be disastrous, just to shut his friend up. He knew it was all well intentioned, but honestly, he was fine. Maybe it wasn’t completely normal to throw a printer out of the window at 4am in frustration, simply because no-one was answering their phones, but that had been at the end of a very long week. He was over that now. Okay, so he’d gotten through half of the large multipack of stress balls that Courfeyrac had bought him in less than a week (“E, those are supposed to last ages. Forever. What are you doing, chewing them?”), but it didn’t mean that he needed to resort to sitting crossed-legged and chanting. Especially not for ninety precious minutes of valuable work time. To make things worse, Joly had cancelled at the last minute, due to a particularly nasty cold. He didn’t know why he was surprised.

He walked into a room full of Pilates equipment, which reminded Enjolras of a brightly coloured torture chamber, but he remembered that he needed to go down the stairs on his right, so he began to stomp down them and pushed back the curtain at the bottom. A person with a mop of curly black hair was facing in the opposite direction, lighting a large candle. He didn’t turn around, but said “Hiya, leave your shoes in the basket by the door and then sit yourself on the blue mat. I won’t be a minute. Socks off too!”

Enjolras complied and said “Joly’s sick, so it’s just me.”

The person said “So, by the power of deduction, I’m going to guess that you’re Enjolras. I’m Grantaire, nice to meet you.” He shook the match in his hand to put it out, then discarded it on the edge of the candle stand, before turning to extend that same hand to Enjolras.

For a moment Enjolras appreciated the firm handshake, and the smooth palm and long, supple fingers clasping his hand. Then he looked up, and completely forgot how to efficiently use his lungs. Grantaire wasn’t conventionally handsome, but everything about his features suggested an openness and warmth that made Enjolras feel immediately better about himself, and he wondered if he was about to spend the next hour or so just watching Grantaire beam at him, because he was certain that that could solve all of his problems. He was halfway to suggesting it, when he managed to collect himself and say gruffly “What do we do now, then?”

Grantaire released his hand and continued to smile at him, as though his happiness was the only thing of importance. Enjolras wished he was wearing a tie or had a collar that he could loosen, because he was feeling far too flustered for his liking, and he wanted to be able to do something about. “We begin with sitting,” Grantaire raised a hand to stop Enjolras talking “I know, I know. You know how to sit, what a pointless waste of time, etcetera. But trust me, you don’t. Not properly. Now sit cross legged... Okay, so your hips need to be at least level with your knees, so let’s get a block for you.” He handed Enjolras a firm, blue foam block to sit on, and looked satisfied. “Good. Now, shoulders relaxed, jaw relaxed, and stop frowning! See, you’re looking less stressed already.” Enjolras couldn’t help but smile a little in response. Although he was fairly sure that Grantaire’s hand working into his lower back, moulding it into a better position, had something to do with this. “Right, now onto breathing. Again, you can breathe in your sleep, why on earth am I teaching you how to breathe. You’ll see.”

***

Grantaire was running on autopilot as he worked to increase the efficiency of Enjolras’ breathing technique, and he was glad that he’d done this so many times before, because it was all he could do to not ring Combeferre and yell at him for only describing Enjolras as “difficult”, and not warning him about the whole angel-carved-from-marble thing. An angel-carved-from-marble in yoga pants and a really fucking tight t-shirt. He had to be fairly hands-on with most beginners, placing hands on the right muscles that needed to be moved, adjusting postures to make sure they were releasing and not building tension, but right now he couldn’t decide if this was a blessing or a curse. How exactly was he supposed to show this man how to get into downward facing dog without testing every fibre of his self control. Enjolras was being surprisingly responsive to his breathing instructions, but there was only so long he could keep this up before he’d have to move on to more complex things. Things that involved bending. Grantaire ran a hand through his hair and tried to focus.

***

“That’s brilliant, Enjolras, you’re a natural.” Enjolras felt his cheeks glow at the compliment and he hated himself for it. Someone he hardly knew had just told him that he was good at breathing and he was actually _blushing_. This was awful. He tried to pay attention to Grantaire’s constant stream of instructions, but it was easy to get carried away by the gentle, burbling tone of his voice and end up just staring at the muscles in his shoulders, “Now I’m going to show you child’s pose. It’s the restorative pose we use in-between the more strenuous moves and vinyasas. If you can kneel for me...” Enjolras’ heartbeat picked up. This sounded like the start of a bad porno. But no, Grantaire simply showed him how to do the pose, and then, after a few deep breaths in this position (Enjolras gulped the air and tried to compose himself), they moved on.

It continued like this for a while. A couple of times Grantaire demonstrated the poses first, and oh god, surely it wasn’t right for someone to be so flexible. He was like a human rubber band, and he flowed from one position to another with such grace, all the while explaining to Enjolras which muscles were being worked, and the importance of each rippling movement, and all Enjolras wanted to do was rip off his stupid vest and be the one responsible for making his back arch like that.

“Cat and dog is a really simple movement, but essential to a lot of vinyasas, so I’m going to show you that. Okay, please can you get on your hands and knees...” Their eyes met for a moment, and for the first time Grantaire showed some evidence of being in the same predicament as Enjolras. His cheeks flushed pink, which added to Enjolras’ desire to close the space between them, but he looked away quickly instead and Grantaire recovered himself “um, yep, like that. You have to lead with your tail bone, so when you breath in your pelvis tips up like this” Grantaire placed his hands, more cautiously than he had before, either side of Enjolras’ hips, and he thought he would literally combust on the spot “then curve the rest of your spine, that’s it, just like that, and your neck will raise naturally, but don’t hold it stiffly, relax. Exhale is cat, so your tail bone dips the other way, your head drops and you arch your spine.” Grantaire laughed, which Enjolras thought was probably highly unprofessional for a teacher, but it was a wonderful sound, so he didn’t complain “No, no, you’re trying to look a bit like a frightened cat, when they puff themselves up and hiss.”

“Why?” Enjolras gritted out.

“Calm down, E, trust the professional. Imagine you’ve got a string connected to your belly button and it’s pulling up- yes, that’s it! Perfect.” They repeated this a few more times, before Grantaire announced that it was approaching time for savasana, whatever that meant, so he was just going to show him a quick bridge pose.

***

Grantaire had never been so disappointed to have had someone on their knees, and now their back, in such a strictly professional fashion, but he tried not to let it show. “That’s it, arms by your side, palms facing up. Relax, let them open out. Bend your knees, feet firm on the ground. Bring them in a bit closer to you, so we can go deeper with the pose.” Fuck, why had he chosen a career so laced with innuendo? He found it vaguely amusing telling a class of middle aged women to go deeper, or get on their hands and knees, but he really didn’t need this right now. “Now, when you exhale, you have to peel your spine off the floor, gently, like you’re floating. Vertebra by vertebra. Excellent, now hold it for a breath. And then slowly back down on the next exhale.” Enjolras really was incredibly good for a beginner. Also, considering his warning from Combeferre, he’d been remarkably receptive.

He let Enjolras continue for a few more breaths, then said “You’re brilliant, y’know, I hope you carry on with lessons after this.” He didn’t give him time to respond “So, time for savasana. Final relaxation.”

“Which is?”

“You get to lie there and breathe deeply for a few minutes and let all the good yoga vibes wash over you. I bang a little gong and the end and everything, it’s all very professional.”

Enjolras laughed, but then paused thoughtfully and licked his lips, suddenly looking determined, if slightly nervous “I don’t find lying still very relaxing...” there was a suggestion in there. In fact, suggestion wasn’t really the right word, Grantaire realised, as he tore his eyes away from Enjolras’ face and along his body. Even baggy yoga pants struggled to conceal the increasing erection underneath.

Grantaire was a professional. Grantaire was good at his job. Grantaire had a golden god with an erection within touching distance.

Fuck savasana.

***

Enjolras was fairly sure that people in the next street would be able to hear his heart, it was hammering so violently against his ribcage. Then Grantaire began speaking again, in his casual, instructor voice and he struggled to hide his disappointment “Well, I know another method of relaxation that might do the trick. Get back into bridge pose, hips off the floor. Very good.” Suddenly Grantaire’s fingers were gripping the top of his waistband and tugging his trousers and boxers off gently, and Enjolras’ disappointment vanished. “Feet further apart, please.” Grantaire said, when the clothing had been successfully removed and tossed aside. He kept his voice airy, but his elegant fingers were trailing along Enjolras’ cock and he was grinning wickedly.

“Take off your vest.” Enjolras growled, because he was fairly sure that speech would fail him soon, and he was determined to get a good look at what years of yoga could do to a man’s abs. Grantaire shrugged and consented, and Enjolras was very satisfied with his decision. He was about to sit up and explore the smooth contours of those muscles, but was stopped by Grantaire bending down and licking the drop of pre-come from the tip of his cock. He gasped, which elicited another grin from Grantaire, and that smile was rapidly becoming his favourite thing in the world.

And then Grantaire was on him, licking him and swallowing him down, and he decided that perhaps Granatire’s smile could be his second favourite thing. He let out a strangled moan, and fuck, Grantaire was actually smiling around his penis, relishing in swirling his tongue across every inch of it. Enjolras buried his hands in the black head of curls hovering over his hips and hung on for dear life. He wanted to express how wonderful this mouth was, he wanted to recite poetry about how no other mouth could feel so gloriously sinful, but all he could do was groan. “Grantaire, shit, I’m gonna, Grantaire-” but he only felt the grip on his hips tighten, and thumbs circling across his hips bones in what he could only translate as encouragement, and that was all it took.

His breath caught in his throat and he shuddered as he ejaculated. Grantaire pulled away then swallowed, and Enjolras sank back and swore profusely, before hoisting himself back up and slamming against Grantaire, knocking them both over and clashing their teeth together. It was a long, reckless kiss, and eventually, when he needed to breathe, Enjolras pulled away and said “If you make me do any fucking chanting now, I will kill you.”

Grantaire laughed, rumbling against Enjolras like a summer storm, “I’ll save making you chant for next week.” Then he kissed him again, and Enjolras had to admit it to himself, as he smiled against Grantaire’s lips, Combeferre’s idea had certainly left him feeling more relaxed than he had in months.

**Author's Note:**

> Well, my fics have now covered death, angst, fluff and smut, so you can't say that I don't give you variety!
> 
> My writing Tumblr is [here](http://becominghistoric.tumblr.com/), come and say hello.
> 
> Namaste ;)


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